


A Collection of Ideas

by SpencerRemyLvr



Series: A Collection of Ideas [1]
Category: Criminal Minds, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, In some of these, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spencer is a Summers, Trigger Warnings, Violence, badly written Cajun accent, hints of D/s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:16:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpencerRemyLvr/pseuds/SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: This is going to be the new place to put all my snippets, hints, clips, and things like that. Stuff that's started and not compelled, or which is going to be worked on next.





	1. Surprising Allies

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be the new place to put all my snippets, hints, clips, and things like that. Stuff that's started and not compelled, or which is going to be worked on next. I'm not going to go through and take away the stories already posted in this series. But from now on, they're going to be all held in here so when I finish the others, I can come to one place and look at the kudos/comments and see what is most loved and most wanted next. :) Enjoy! An don't say I didn't warn you - these are NOT finished

The day was almost at an end and Spencer Reid was just wrapping up the last of his paperwork when someone sat down right on the edge of his desk. He didn’t bother looking up, already knowing who it would be. Though a corner of his mouth quirked slightly at the other person’s antics, he kept his eyes on his papers and continued to write even as he asked “Is there something I can assist you with, Morgan?”

The senior profiler and one of his absolute best friends laughed and leaned over to look at the paper he was working on. “Aren’t you done already? I mean, even _I’m_ finished, and that’s saying something, kid.”

“Seeing as how this file was yours, I think that it says that you know how to push your work off on others.” Spencer fired back. He finished the last line and closed the folder, handing it up to Derek before leaning back in his chair to shake his head at his friend. “Here, completed and only in need of your signature.”

Derek flashed a wide grin at him. “You’re the best, Reid.”

Rolling his eyes, Spencer looked over toward Emily, who was chuckling into her coffee cup. “So, Reid.” She called out to him. “Do you have any plans for the weekend?”

Starting as soon as the workday finished, the team was going to have a whole weekend off from work. That may not have sounded like much to others, but to the team, who had been working back to back cases for weeks now, two days free from the Bureau sounded like heaven. Aaron had promised them that, barring any absolute emergencies, they would not be disturbed through the whole weekend. Spencer smiled over at Emily and shrugged. “I thought I might get in contact with some friends, see how they’re doing.”

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting him. Derek started into his plans for the weekend while Spencer opened his cell and found the text there. _– Private Number – ETA 6:36 –_ He read the message quickly and closed his phone before putting it back into his pocket. Derek was still talking about some club he wanted to go to that he’d never been to before and Ashley was chiming in now, saying she’d heard it was a great place. It was surprising that Ashley was speaking up about something like this, outside of work. She was still rather shy around them with some things and tended to not talk all that much socially to anyone but Dave. The girl was still new enough; given time, Spencer knew she’d warm up.

The phone on his desk rang and, before he could answer it, Derek snatched it up and said “Dr. Reid’s desk.”

Spencer stared at the man, watching as Derek’s face stretched into a grin. “Hey to you too! How’s it going? Yeah? No shit? Uh huh…yeah, of course. He’s right here. Yeah, giving me the death glare for answering his phone…” Pausing, Derek let out a laugh. “I know, right? Okay, here he is.”

It wasn’t that hard to figure out who it was. Sighing, Spencer took the phone with a mock glare at Derek. “Hello, Alex. What do you want?”

_“Is that any way to treat your brother?”_

He could hear the laughter in Alex’s voice and it made him smile despite himself. “No, you’re right. That was far too nice and sophisticated, but I am at work and therefore can’t speak at your level. You’ll have to make due.”

This time Alex let his laughter out. _“You’re such a shit, pidge. You know that, right? And who says I want something, huh? Can’t I call to say hi?”_

“Call me at work, on my _work number_ , only seven minutes before I’m due to leave the office? Try again. What do you want?”

_“I hate you.”_

“I’m going to hang up, Alex…” He looked up at Derek and the two shared a grin. Emily was listening from her desk without shame and Ashley was even watching him.

There was a gusty sigh before Alex spoke again, his voice slightly pleading. _“I was taking a look at some things from my accountant and some of the numbers don’t add up right. And before you make some crack about my mathematical skills, let me just tell you shut up in advance. I think the fucker’s skimming some of my damn cash.”_

No matter how much they teased one another, they always had one another’s backs, even in the little things. Spencer didn’t hesitate to tell him “Send me the relevant data and I’ll run over it this weekend and have it back to you by Monday.”

_“Oh, man, you’re a lifesaver, pidge.”_

“Just you remember that.” Glancing up, Spencer saw the clock on the wall and took note of the time. “Listen, if that’s everything, I’ve really got to get going.” As he spoke he started to move, gathering up his things and putting them into his bag. Derek moved off his desk, freeing it up for Spencer to finish putting things away.

Alex very obviously perked up at those words. _“Get going? To what? Spencer…do you have a date? Oh, man. Tell me you’ve got a date! Who is he? What’s his name? Where’d you meet him? I want details and I want them now! Well, not naughty details. Wait! Are there naughty details to be had already?”_

Spencer pulled his bag over his head and resisted the urge to sigh. “Goodbye, Alex. I’ll call once I have something for you.”

 _“Don’t you dare hang up…!”_ He was cut off as Spencer did just what Alex had been telling him not to do. He hung up on him. Then because he knew his friends and he knew that they too would be about to ask questions, Spencer made a hasty retreat, giving them a quick wave as he hurried off. “I’ll see you guys on Monday! Have a good weekend!” he called out. Then he was out the doors and going to the elevator. If everything was running on time, he should make it to where he needed to be with just minutes to spare.

* * *

Thirty five minutes later found Spencer sitting on a small bench in a quieter part of DC. Gone was his typical sweater vest, stuffed down into his messenger bag now. In its place he wore a zip up sweater jacket, trying to make himself look less out of place here; not that it was crowded or anything. There was no one in sight but for him. Occasional cars drove past, watched carefully by the young genius. Then his attention was caught by the sight of a particular car coming around the corner. A cab, rarely seen in this part of town. Spencer rose to his feet when the cab pulled up and a large, dangerous looking man climbed out. The man walked straight toward Spencer, lips curved in a smile that showed just a hint of too sharp teeth. “Last place people would think to find you, beanpole.” Victor Creed said, his grin growing a little wider, a little more dangerous.

It had no effect on the young genius. “Isn’t that the point?” Spencer returned calmly. He smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets, inclining his head to the right. “Car’s this way.”

The two easily fell into step beside one another, starting leisurely down the sidewalk. “So, anything new since you called?”

“Nothing. Not a single thing. I still have no clue who or why.” Sighing, Spencer clenched his hands a little in his pockets, trying to keep his voice low and level.

Victor snorted. “Once I find em, they’ll tell me why.”

Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, Spencer handed it to Victor, who pocketed it without a word. They both knew what it was. A code was on there, one that Victor would input on his account online that would transfer his down payment from Spencer’s account to his. It was how they’d always worked. The rest would be given upon completion. “I’ve got the weekend off, so whatever we can get by Monday would be best. If they’re going to try something stupid, this weekend would probably be when they’re going to do it.”

The two turned the corner, just a block away from the car, when all of a sudden all hell broke loose. A van pulled out of the alley up ahead and Victor cursed loudly, grabbing Spencer’s arm to move just seconds too late. Gunfire split the air and the nearby glass bus stop enclosure exploded, glass flying, and they were falling to the ground as Victor yanked them down to try and shelter Spencer’s body from the hail of bullets.

Grabbing Spencer tight, Victor made a quick dive back around the corner, feeling the bullet that ripped through his arm, already healing by the time they were back around the corner. He looked down, ready to snarl something at Spencer, and found the young man almost limp in his arms, blood coming from more than one place on his body. Shit. Shit! Any plans of standing and fighting just went out the window. First priority on this job was to keep the charge safe. That above all else. So, as much as it went against instinct to run, Victor gathered the little shit up in his arms and, with a furious snarl, took off into the night.


	2. Then and Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something happens on a case and Spencer runs to the person he knows he can trust above all others. But that means that Remy's going to have to explain a few things about his friend and just how damaged he truly is. Then, hopefully he can help him to heal.
> 
> Hints of D/s in here.

It was a beautiful evening. Remy stretched out on the rooftop, one arm tucked behind his head and his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He laid there, smoking and watching from behind his dark shades as the sun slowly set. There would’ve been quite a few people who would’ve been surprised to discover that this was one of his favorite things to do. He absolutely loved watching the sunset; the way the sky changed its colors until it looked like paints smeared out from the sun. Years had passed since he’d picked up a paintbrush, yet he always found himself with that slight urge when he got the chance to watch the sun go down.

The feel of his phone vibrating in his pants pocket drew his attention away from the sight in front of him. He contemplated not answering it before sighing and reaching down into his pocket. A look at the phone screen made him glad he’d decided to pull it out. Talking to his best friend while watching the sun go down would just make the evening even better. That friendship was another thing that would’ve surprised quite a few people to know about. Remy LeBeau, known by many as Gambit, one of the infamous X-men and proud master thief—best friends with Dr. Spencer Reid, a certified genius with three doctorates, three B.A.’s, and a Supervisory Special Agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the _FBI_. That’s right. A Fed. But he’d known Spencer since before the man had ever even thought about joining the Academy.

He brought the phone to his ear, grinning around the cigarette that dangled from his lips. “Y’ should see dis sunset here, _mon ami_.” He said in way of a greeting. “It’s a _beau_ sight.”

_“I bet it is.”_

Every instinct Remy had went on high alert at the tone to that voice. His muscles all went tight before loosening up as if in preparation for trouble. “What is it?” There was a serious note to his voice that clearly said he knew something was going on and he wanted answers. Now. “What happened?”

 _“Is it, um…would it be all right if I uh, if I came to stay with you? Just…just for a little while. We just finished our case and I have some time off and I just, I was hoping maybe I could come and, and stay with you. If that was okay.”_ There was a note to Spencer's words, a hint of tightness that Remy recognized and that made him even more worried. That edge only got into Spencer's voice when he was fighting to keep himself and his emotions under tight control—and when he was failing at it.

Never once in all these years had Spencer ever asked if he could come and stay here with Remy. He’d asked Remy to come out there before, but he had never asked to come out here. Usually he didn’t even have to ask for Remy to come to him. Remy had perfected the art of reading Spencer over the years and as silly as it may have sounded to others, he generally knew what Spencer needed before Spencer himself knew. There were always indicators when Spencer was reaching a hard spot and Remy always made a point to head out that way if he could when he saw those indicators. The fact that Spencer, a man who rarely ever asked for anything, was asking to come out…it put a sick feeling in Remy’s stomach. “Of course y’ can.” He didn’t hesitate to say the words. “Spencer…are y’ okay?” His question asked so much more than just that and he knew Spencer would hear it.

There was a broken sound on the other end of the phone that might’ve been a weak attempt at a laugh or a choked off sob, Remy wasn’t sure which. _“No.”_ Came the honest answer. _“This case…”_ His words trailed off and Remy heard a shuddered breath.

Remy pulled his cigarette from his lips and charged it before flicking it and letting it explode with a little pop in the evening air. Then he was moving, agilely navigating his way to the window he’d used to get up here. “Where are y’ right now?”

_“I’m still at work. I just finished my reports for the uh, the case.”_

“Dis is what y’r gonna do den.” One handed, Remy grabbed the sill and slipped in through the window with ease. He quickly made his way to his desk and opened his laptop. “Y’r gonna grab y’r go bag and y’r gonna ask one of y’r _amis_ to take y’ to de train station. When y’ get dere, y’ll go to de desk and pick up de tickets I’m about to order fo’ y’. When de train gets dere, I’ll be waiting fo’ y’ at de station. _D’accord_?”

 _“Okay.”_ He heard a soft breath sigh out from Spencer and when the man spoke again, his voice had just a hint less stress to it. _“Thank you.”_

“Anytime. Now, go ask fo’ y’r ride and y’ text me when y’r on de train to let me know y’ made it.”

Once he’d hung the phone up, it only took a few minutes online before Remy had the ticket purchased and the guarantee that it would be waiting for Spencer at the desk. That done, he stopped for a moment to try and think of what to do next. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good, that much was obvious. There was something serious going on with Spencer. Without knowing what exactly the problem was it would be hard to plan out what to do. However, before anything else he needed to figure out where they were going to be staying. First thought was to set up in town at his condo for a while. That would give them privacy so that he could find out what was going on and help his friend through it. It would also save him from having to explain Spencer's actions to anyone.

But…

If Spencer wanted to leave his home, wanted to come out here like he’d _never_ done before, it had Remy wondering if maybe there was some kind of trouble. That was a possibility, especially with his job. If Spencer was in trouble then Remy wanted to bring him here, not the condo. The condo was safe, sure. Here, though, surrounded by friends, was even safer. Also, if this was work-related, there was a chance he was injured and if that was the case then he wanted to be near enough to Henri to be able to get Spencer help if need be.

There were far too many if’s in there to really be able to make a decision as to what to do right now. The only smart route seemed to be to prepare for either one. To do that, he needed to speak with Scott. A glance at the clock gave him a general idea where he would find the man and he quickly set out to go to him. Sure enough, when he knocked at the door to Scott’s office a few minutes later, the man called out a “Come in.”

Remy pushed the door open, poking his head in first before bringing in the rest of him. There was no one else in here, thankfully. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have where everyone could hear him. He looked to where Scott was pacing by his desk. “Heya, Fearless. Y’ got a few minutes to spare?”

Surprise showed in the arched brows for only a second before Scott’s expression smoothed out. He closed the folder in his hands and tossed it down onto his desk. “Sure. What can I do for you, Remy?”

If there was anyone here at the mansion that Remy trusted, Scott was definitely one of them, ranking right up there beside Logan. Maybe they didn’t always see eye to eye and maybe people thought they spent more time arguing than anything else. But the two of them had a good friendship and Remy knew he could trust the man, something that wasn’t easy for him to do. Pulling in a breath, Remy reminded himself that he could trust Scott. Then he shut the door and made his way further into the office. “Dis might take more dan a few minutes. Remy’s got a favor to ask, _mais_ dere’s some things y’ need to know first.”

Scott just nodded and moved around his desk. “Drink?” he offered.

Sighing, Remy slipped into the chair he always used. “ _Oui, merci_.” He watched as Scott moved to his liquor cabinet and unlocked it. While the man got their drinks, Remy figured he better start this. “Got a phone call a bit ago when I was out having a smoke. _Mon ami_ , he called to ask if he could come and stay with Remy fo’ a while. Known him fo’ a long time, me. Aint once in all dat time has he ever asked to come stay with Remy. It’s… it’s safer fo’ Remy to go stay with him. If he’s asking to come here, it’s gotta mean dere’s some kind of trouble.” He reached up and took the glass when Scott brought it to him. “ _Merci_.”

“You’re welcome.” Scott didn’t go around to the other side of the desk. Instead, he took the chair by Remy’s, turning it enough that he could look at him. “I’m assuming the ‘safer’ part is one of the things I’d need to know?”

Remy sipped off his drink before nodding. “ _Oui_. First, lemme say, Spencer's a mutant. Makes blue energy with his hands. Thing is, don’t no one know he is. See…he works fo’ de ah, de BAU. Dat’s…”

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit.” Scott finished for him. “Shit. You’ve got a friend in the FBI? A friend that’s secretly a mutant that works for the FBI? Shit, Rem.” Pausing, Scott shook his head before surprising Remy by laughing. “You have got to have the most interesting friends. Okay. Well, that makes the ‘safer’ comment make a little more sense. Protecting him and us by keeping us all away from one another. That makes sense.”

“Exactly. Now, I don’t t’ink dat’ll be a problem dis time. I can get him in here and dere shouldn’t be a problem once he’s on de property. _Mais…merde_.” The expletive slipped out on a frustrated breath. Remy tipped his glass back and took a gulp, letting the burn work its way down his throat. He had no idea how to go about saying this but he knew that he had to if he wanted Spencer to be able to stay here. Because if he didn’t do it now, it would sure as hell come up later and he wasn’t going to put Spencer through that. He personally didn’t care what people thought of him. However, he wasn’t going to let anyone cause any trouble for Spencer. And if he didn’t address this in advance, it very well could.

Abruptly Remy sat forward, resting his arms on his thighs and cradling his glass between his hands. The best way to do this was to just spit it all out. The seriousness of his words was easily conveyed to Scott by his tone and made even more obvious by the fact that Remy slipped into first person speech. “Okay, it’s like dis. I aint worried about de trouble with de Feds or nothing. Hell, I aint even worried if dere’s someone after him or something like dat. Between us, I got faith we’d keep de boy safe. What worries me is how people here are gonna act with him. I don’t want no comments or things dat hurt him. And I know people can be cruel bout things dey don’t understand. I aint after explaining everything to everyone here. Dat aint deir business, y’ know? _Mais_ if we decide to stay here and not at m’ condo, I thought dat letting y’ know might help. Have someone dat understands on our side, _oui_?”

“What is it you think people won’t understand?”

“How Spencer acts with me.” Remy answered promptly. He took a second to take another drink from his glass before continuing. “Here’s where it gets to de things y’ need to know. To make y’ understand, I gotta go back a ways and tell y’ how I first met him. Don’t mind if y’ share dis with Jeannie, seeing as how she’s y’r _femme_. But it should be up to Spencer if anyone else finds out, y’ know?”

“No one else will find out from us, Remy. I promise you that.”

“ _Merci_. I know y’r word’s _bon_ , me.” His phone buzzing cut him off and he pulled it out to check the text message that just came in. _‘On the train. Departing in five minutes – S’_ He sent off a quick reply, _‘I’ll be there to pick you up – R’_ and then he closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. “ _Désolé_ , Scotty. Anyways, okay.” Time to get this started. _Now or never, LeBeau_. “When I first met Spencer, he was sixteen. I was in Vegas fo’ work and de client had me meet him in dis private club he owned. Mutant only place, real exclusive. I met him dere fo’ some drinks and to talk business. It was just a club like any other club, y’ know? Drinks, cards, a stage fo’ de entertainment. When I got dere, dey had a band up playing and some _femme_ singing. Den, when we was wrapping things up, de _femme_ finished and dey announced dat it was time fo’ de next act. M’ client told me to stay and enjoy de show with him, so I turned to watch. First, dere was just dis sultry voice singing.”

He could still see it if he closed his eyes. Still hear that song. At one point in time it had been a song he’d laughed over. Now, it never failed to make him grit his teeth. ‘Trashy Women’. He had to shove back those memories so he could continue this.

“Den de curtains opened up and out came strutting dis…dis young thing. _Dieu_ , he looked so young, Scotty. And what he was wearing, y’ wouldn’t believe it. In Vegas dey aint known fo’ subtlety. De _homme_ had on purple sequined shorts dat looked more like briefs dan shorts. He wore a pair of black leather chaps, purple sparkly boots, and dis black vest dat cut off mid chest with strings hanging down to his waistline. He even had on a purple wig and a purple cowboy hat. De _homme_ was all decked out in de cowboy stripper style. And he did de moves, too. Danced and sang his way round de room, flirting with everyone, getting his ass pinched and shit like dat.”

“Shit.” Scott breathed out. It wasn’t hard to see where this was going.

Glaring at his glass, Remy drained the last of it. He stared down into the empty bottom as he kept going. “M’ client, Carmen, he told me he’d bought de boy from someone else, who had bought de boy from his _père_ when he was just ten. _Ten_. De things de boy had to do, y’ don’t need dose details. Don’t know if I could say dem anyways without breaking something. But y’ can guess what kind of life he had. I played it up, let Carmen t’ink I was real interested in de boy, let him t’ink I was aching fo’ him. Didn’t take much to charm de man into changing de payment fo’ de job. Instead of cash, he gave me Spencer. I basically bought de _homme_ from him.”

There. That had been the hardest part of all. From here, it was a little easier to tell. Remy shifted back in his seat again and curled his legs up in the chair with him, adjusting his posture so he could finally look over at Scott. There was no judgment on the man’s face, no recriminations. But Remy could feel his sorrow and sympathy and anger, all emotions Remy could understand and appreciate. True to form, Scott said nothing, able to tell that the story wasn’t done. He just quietly waited for Remy to finish.

After a second to gather himself, Remy did. “After dat, I made it m’ mission to put Carmen outta business. He still don’t know it was me dat robbed him blind. Six months later, he was gone.” And that had been _so_ satisfying! “When I first took Spencer outta dere, he didn’t even flinch over de idea of being sold. He’d been too well trained to flinch over it. Dose early days, _merde_ , dey was bad. Took me a long time to convince him dat I wasn’t like de others. Dat I was setting him free. He just couldn’t believe me. But we worked on it and I finally earned de boy’s trust. I helped him out, made sure dat he was taken care of and dat his _mere_ was taken care of too, cause dey was alone and she couldn’t work and dat was half de reason he was doing dis, fo’ de money to support dem. He was in college at de time, so he was off at Caltech during de week and home on de weekends.”

“College? I thought you said he was sixteen?”

That was enough to make Remy smile. “ _Oui_ , he was. Spencer graduated high school when he was twelve.” Feeling and seeing Scott’s shock, Remy let out a husky laugh. “He’s a genius. Guess I should warn y’ of dat, too. He’s got an IQ of 187. Dey say dat’s supposedly higher dan Einstein’s. He’s also got an eidetic memory and he can read like a flash. T’ink he said it’s something like twenty thousand words a minute. He’s got doctorates in mathematics, chemistry and engineering and B.A’s in psychology, sociology and philosophy. But, all dat’s off topic. What all dis boils down to, why it’s all important fo’ y’ to know, is dis.” Once more Remy turned serious. There was time for the rest later. Right now, he needed to finish what he started. “Spencer and I have gotten real close over de years. De _homme_ is m’ best friend. I’d trust him with m’ life. And he’s come a long way from de person he was back den. But, he’d already been someone’s property fo’ six years by de time I came into de picture, and he’d been hurt by his _père_ fo’ years b’fore dat. De things dat were done to him, de things he learned, he can’t ever seem to fully let go of.”

The look Scott wore was one of dawning comprehension. “So, when you said people won’t understand how he acts with you…I take it he still shows some of his, well, training, for lack of a better word.”

“He does. Not s’ much as he used to. We still work on trying to get him to be more independent and he does real _bon_ most of de time. But dere are some things dat just don’t seem to go away fo’ him. Dey have with other people, but not with him and Remy. And when he’s having problems, it gets more pronounced, y’ see. So with whatever’s going on, dere’s a chance he’s gonna be a lil more in dat mindset dan he usually is and I just don’t want no one giving him shit fo’ it. When things get bad fo’ him and he gets dat outta control feeling, catering to dat part of him is sometimes de only way to give him de stability to be okay again. I aint saying he acts like m’ pup or m’ slave or nothing like dat. It’s just, _merde_ , it’s hard to explain it all.”

“You don’t have to, Remy. You’ve already explained plenty enough. If there’s any trouble, I’ll handle it or Jean will.” The ‘leader’ tone was in Scott’s voice; that tone that said this was his word and it was final and anyone who had a problem with it could kiss his ass. “This is a safe haven for all mutants, not just the ones that people approve of. If he acts a little different or has problems that people feel the need to make fun of, I’ll straighten them out easily enough.”

The honesty in those words and the support that Remy could feel with it had him sighing just a little in relief. He’d known he could count on Scott. “ _Merci beaucoup,_ Scotty.” The words were straight and heartfelt. “Aint sure yet if we’re gonna stay at m’ condo in town or here, _mais_ I wanted to be prepared fo’ either one. He said he just got off a case, so dere’s a chance he could be hurt. Comes with de job, _oui_?”

“Well, whichever you decide, just know that he is welcome here. When is he coming in?”

“Dat was him dat text me b’fore to let me know he was on de train, so not real long. Few hours.” And speaking of that, there were some other things he needed to take care of. Remy rose gracefully to his feet, going to take care of his glass. “B’fore he gets here, I’m gonna go and take care of a few things in town, pick up a few things fo’ him. He’s coming straight from work so he’s only got his go-bag with him.”

Scott rose as well, bringing his glass over to the sideboard. “Well, make sure to let me know if you decide to stay in town for a while or if you need me to prep a room here or anything.”

A laugh slipped out of Remy and flashed a smile at his friend. “Even if de _homme_ stays here, he aint staying in his own room. He’ll stay in with me.”

“Yeah, I give that about a day, day and a half before rumors start to fly.”

“Trust me, Scotty. Dat’s inevitable.” With that teasing remark, Remy winked at him before turning to make his way out of the room, leaving his friend chuckling behind him.


	3. Where Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> old prompt fic “Ten years ago, Spencer and Remy left their old lives behind to start a new one, together. Now, with Remy missing and his family being followed, Spencer turns to the only people who might be able to help him bring his husband home.” 
> 
> Mpreg!

This was the very last thing he wanted to do. Fingers curled around the steering wheel, Spencer stared up at the house that was looming in the distance. Who knew a house could seem so damn intimidating? The more he looked at it, the more he wanted to turn around and run away. Drive as far as he could in the other direction. He didn’t want to go here, didn’t want to see these people. He especially didn’t want to ask them for help. But what real choice did he have? There was nowhere else to go. No one else that he could turn to; not for something like this. He had no other options. This was what was best for his family. This was his best hope for keeping them safe.

His eyes drifted up to the rearview mirror to yet again check the back of the van. Remy had bought them this black Nissan passenger van a few years back when their family really started to grow. They really needed the space it provided. It still stunned Spencer sometimes when he stopped and just looked at his family.

A little over ten years ago, Spencer and Remy had fallen from friendship to dating after a half-drunken night in bed had revealed feelings on either side. They’d woken up in Spencer's bed the next morning and, after a bit of talk, had decided to see where things went. Neither one had expected to find out just a month later that Spencer was pregnant. But neither one could find themselves being anything but happy. For Remy, it was no difficult choice to leave the mansion and the X-men behind. Since the Trial, since he’d been left to die in Antarctica, since his return to the mansion and his less than happy reception, he’d been adrift and aching, unsure of what to do or where to go with his life. This gave him a purpose and a place. It was just as easy for Spencer to make his decisions, too. He left the Bureau; he’d already seen too many times just what kind of things could happen to the family members of agents. That wasn’t something he was going to let happen to his family.

The two were married in a quiet, private ceremony when Spencer was six months pregnant. They moved to a cozy, private house on the outskirts of Baltimore, close enough to still be able to see their friends from the BAU. The move was finalized and finished in just enough time for the birth of Summer Lynn and Margaret Mary. Two happy, healthy, beautiful little girls. The boys couldn’t have been happier.

Being one of the rare males capable of getting pregnant, Spencer had always known that he’d have a family someday. It was a quiet want of his that he’d nurtured close to the heart. He was always nervous about it—no one knew better than him just how awkward he could be around children. To his surprise, he took to it amazingly well. It was so different when the children were your own. He still got nervous, but there were vast amounts of love to make up for it, and it always managed to work out.

However, he’d never expected his family to be quite _this_ large. Just two years after the girls were born, their next two children came along; one born to them, and one brought to them. Just months before Tristan Eliot was due, the boys had a surprise visitor. Belle showed up at their house with a sullen eleven year old mutant orphan in tow, who had the ability to control and use the dark around him, both as a shield and as a weapon. He was the son of an assassin who had died to keep Belle safe and she had felt it her duty to find him a good home. For some reason, she hadn’t kept him for herself. She’d brought him to them and requested that Remy apprentice the boy. Spencer and Remy hadn’t even needed to think. They’d taken in the young man and never once regretted it. Though his looks gave him away as not being theirs—mocha colored skin, with black hair and dark eyes—they’d never once treated him as anything less than theirs. It took a few years for it to sink in for him that he wasn’t just an apprentice, though Remy did train him. He really was a part of the family.

It was Benji’s first Christmas there that Remy had brought home the next member of their family—a dog. A young, mixed breed puppy that someone had been getting rid of and that he couldn’t resist. Spencer, despite his discomfort with dogs, found that he couldn’t say no when his husband surprised them all with the puppy and he saw the absolute joy on the children’s faces. So, their family had grown by one more. Though, none of them had quite expected this mixed breed little puppy to get quite so large. He’d gone from being able to fit in Spencer's lap—he always seemed drawn to Spencer, though a loud bark from him could still make the genius jump out of his skin sometimes—to standing so tall at his side. There was quite a bit of mastiff in his features, which accounted for the size, they figured.

But he was a dream with the kids and he adored Spencer, which fit Remy’s needs perfectly. He’d gotten the dog as a way to watch out for his family when he had to travel. Travel wasn’t a constant thing, but it did happen. While he was gone it helped Remy feel a little better to know that he had a bit of extra protection around the house. Spencer always rolled his eyes at that, but he said nothing. Just as he said nothing when, a few years later, Benji came home with a stray kitten following at his heels who, for some reason, wouldn’t leave, no matter how many times they put him out. By the end of the week, they were calling him Watson and their family was one little kitten larger.

So, their family had grown quite a bit by then. Summer, Maggie, Tristan, and Benji, Mycroft, and now Watson. Spencer was happy, happier than he’d ever been, and so was Remy. Spencer put himself on birth control, figuring that their family was large enough by then.

Three years later, Mikayla Grace was born. Two years after that came Cordelia Ann. And then, just two months ago, the birth of their final daughter—Joya Margot.

This was it, Spencer had told Remy when he was pregnant with Joya. This was enough. Five pregnancies and seven children was more than enough for any one person. When they delivered her, the doctors stayed in and tied things off, making sure that Spencer wouldn’t ever be able to carry another child. And they were happy with it. They were content. Their family was large, so much larger than Spencer had ever expected it would be. Seven children, a dog, a cat, and a pet frog.

Benji was seventeen now, Summer and Maggie were ten, Tristan was eight, Mikayla was five, Cordelia—Dee—was three, and Joya just months old. It had been ten years since the two had left their old lives behind. Ten wonderful, happy years.

Then fate decided to drag them back into it.

Remy had gone on a business trip to do a security consultation down in Baton Rouge. While down that way, he and Belle had gotten together. Spencer knew that because he’d spoken to Belle two weeks ago, the day after Remy was supposed to have been home. She’d seen him, she said, and he’d been fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Spencer had checked with the client as well and had been assured that Remy had been there, done his job, and then left. Only, when Spencer finally broke down and called Penelope, asking her to run a check for him, there were no records of Remy ever getting on his flight home. There was no footage that day at the airport of him, either. There were records that showed him checking out of his hotel but after that it was as if he’d vanished off the face of the earth.

For two weeks now Spencer had been searching. He’d called up his friends, pleaded for their help. Though the team wasn’t together anymore—Dave had retired again, Derek was heading his own team now with Garcia and JJ still there, Aaron was now training at the academy, and Emily was overseas—none of their combined efforts had been able to find Remy. It was like he’d up and vanished.

Then, Spencer had started to notice something. He’d thought he was just being paranoid at first. Who wouldn’t be paranoid with their husband missing? Only, he wasn’t the only one to notice it. Benji came home from the store one day and pulled Spencer aside to let him know that he’d been tailed. They were being watched.

Over the past ten years Spencer had mostly stayed away from the Bureau. He occasionally did consultations but not all that often. His family kept him busy. However, he wasn’t so far out of the game that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. Remy was missing, unable to be found by any Bureau resources, and now they were being followed? Someone was after their family. Judging by the level of skill in all this, it was someone powerful, and he doubted they had anything good in mind.

There was only one thing that Spencer could think of to do. One thing that he could come up with that might be able to help find his husband and save his family. He and Remy had talked before about what to do in the case of an extreme emergency. This certainly qualified.

In the middle of the night, Spencer gathered up his family and everything that they would need and loaded them into the passenger van. He left a single playing card on a clip on the fridge—a sign for Remy, if he came home, to let him know where they were. Then, using Benji’s abilities with the dark to help shield and steer them, they slipped past the guard on the house and out of the city.

That was how Spencer found himself here, pulling up to the home of the very people that he’d always sort of hated. He could still remember, clear as if it happened yesterday, just how upset and tired Remy had looked when he’d showed up at his apartment all those years ago. How beaten down he’d been from the life he’d lived at the mansion. He remembered how much the people here had hurt Remy with their anger and mistrust, with their accusations and their jokes they probably thought were funny. Remy felt so much deeper than people gave him credit for. Things that they’d probably thought were innocent teasing had actually hurt the man inside. The light that had always been in Remy’s eyes, the one that Spencer had fallen in love with back when they first became friends back in college, had been almost completely dimmed. And these people were largely to blame for that. Over the years, Remy had forgiven them. But a part of Spencer never had.

He needed their help, though. There was nowhere else he knew to go. For the sake of his husband and their children, he would do whatever he had to. Even work with these people. Besides, there was one person here that Spencer trusted. The only person that Remy had maintained any contact with. The one who had hunted them down two years after Remy left just to make sure that Remy was okay. It was to him, mostly, that Spencer was going now.

The children were pretty much asleep when Spencer finally brought the van to a halt near the front door of this giant house. They’d left a little after two a.m. and it was an almost four hour car drive, making it just shy of six. While their house usually rose and started around six thirty or seven, the car ride had worked to keep all the kids asleep. Luck of luck, even two and a half month old Joya stayed asleep the whole trip.

Benji, however, woke the instant that Spencer turned the car off. The kid was almost as light a sleeper as Remy was and he woke just as alert as Remy did. His dark eyes immediately found Spencer's in the early morning light that filled the car. Spencer made a small gesture at him to let him know to stay quiet. “I don’t want to wake everyone up right yet.” He said softly, sneaking a look at his sleeping family. “Will you stay with them while I go to the door? I won’t go inside without you guys.”

“Go ahead, Dad.” Benji murmured back in that slow drawl of his. His accent was there, though it wasn’t as thick as Remy’s was. He had no problems with his ‘yous’, nor did he use near as much of the broken French and Cajun like Remy did, but his ‘th’ still often came out with the ‘d’ sound to it, or minus that ‘h’. Then again, so did most of the kids.

The ‘Dad’ had only come in the past few years and it still thrilled Spencer a little to hear it from the teen. Reaching out, he patted Benji’s arm, gave him a soft smile, and then looked at the other kids one more time before climbing out of the van as quietly as possible.

Someone had seen their arrival; they’d been buzzed through the front gates without having to even press the speaker button there. So it wasn’t any real surprise when the door opened before Spencer even reached it.

The person who answered the door wasn’t someone that Spencer recognized. Then again, he hadn’t known a lot of the people here while Remy was here. Remy had mostly kept Spencer away from anything involving the X-Men. Even before the Trial, he hadn’t trusted them enough for that. “Not enough to put y’ at risk.” He’d told Spencer. “An Remy aint giving dem de idea dat dey’re gonna have some contact in de Bureau now dat dey can use. Dere aint no reason dey need to know about y’.”

“Can I help you?” The guy holding the door asked politely. He looked close to Spencer's age, somewhere in his thirties, with short cut blond hair and blue eyes that were both curious and cautious.

Spencer smoothed his hands over the front of his sweater and tried to keep them steady. “Is Logan here?” Please, please, let him be here. If he had Logan with him, the rest of it would seem easier. He’d be more sure that they’d be safe, that no one could turn them away.

“I think he’s down doing his morning workout right now.” The guy said, with just enough hesitation for Spencer to easily figure out that ‘morning workout’ translated to ‘training session’.

“Please.” Spencer said, swallowing his pride. “I know it’s early, but it’s extremely important. Can you get him, please? Tell him that Spencer's here. He’ll come.”

The guy hesitated only a moment longer before stepping back and holding the door wide. “Come on in. You can wait where it’s warm while I go get him.”

But Spencer was already shaking his head. “My family’s out in the van and I’d rather not leave them. Just…just send him outside, please?”

That earned him a strange look. Then the guy nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”

Spencer made his way back over to the van while he waited. It was a good thing, too, as he could see when he got close that Benji was twisting in his seat, reaching into the back. Just as Spencer got back to the driver’s door, Benji was straightening back in his seat with a fussing Joya in his arms. He looked up as Spencer opened the door. “I think someone’s a bit hungry.”

He held his arms out and easily took the swaddled bundle. Cradling her in the crook of one arm, he used his other hand to better tuck the blanket around her. It wasn’t extremely cold, but there was an early morning chill in the air. He smiled softly down at the bleary brown eyes that peeked up at him. Of all the kids, Joya looked most like him with brown hair and brown eyes. Summer and Maggie both had brown curls, but their eyes were red irises with white sclera, while the other three looked like spitting images of Remy. Up until Joya, the running joke amongst their friends had been that the kids looked like Spencer had almost nothing to do with them. But little Joya, she looked so much like him, and Remy had adored that about her from the minute she was born.

Humming softly to soothe the little fussing noises she was making, Spencer swayed a little in place, sneaking a look back to make sure the others were still out. Luckily, they were. The only one that looked awake was Mycroft. The dog had risen up from his spot on the floor—they’d taken a seat out of the van to make a spot just for him to lay—and he was looking around him briefly before he laid his head back on Mikayla’s lap.

“Dey’re okay.” Benji said, though he knew Spencer could see that for himself. Gesturing towards the house with his chin, he asked “What’s up?”

“The one who answered the door is going to get Logan for me. He’s here.”

That had Benji relaxing a little. “Good.”

As if their talking about him had summoned him, the front door was yanked open and Logan came hurrying outside. One look and he was hurrying towards them. The worry was easy to see on his face. He knew they wouldn’t be here unless it was an emergency. Spencer stepped away from the van to meet him halfway. Logan didn’t even wait that long to ask “What happened? Are you guys okay?”

Spencer moved right up to his friend and twisted Joya to the side so that he could step into the hug Logan immediately pulled him into. Over the years, Logan had stopped by a few times. Ever since he found Remy he’d refused to just let him go. Logan was a part of their family. “I tried calling you, but it went straight to voicemail.” Spencer said as he pulled back.

“I lost my phone on the last mission.” Logan’s eyes shot over to the van and then back to Spencer, sharp and intense. “What’s going on, kid?”

He didn’t sugarcoat it or try to beat around the bush at all. Not with Logan and not over something like this. “Remy’s missing.” He said bluntly. There was only a slight catch in his voice, quickly shoved down. “He didn’t come home from his last job. It’s been close to three weeks now, Logan, and I can’t find signs of him anywhere. We were being watched, too. Just the past few days. But they were following us, watching the house. I had to have Benji use his powers to help us slip out this morning. I just, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know where else to go or what to do.”

“Don’t be sorry, Spencer. You did right, comin’ here. We’ll find him.” There was such confidence in Logan’s voice. It gave Spencer something to latch on to; something to help hold him together.

A soft whine from Joya brought the attention of the adults back to her. It had Spencer rocking slightly and Logan straightening up. “C’mon,” He said. “Let’s get you guys in where it’s warm. We aint gonna figure things out standing out here.”

This was one of those moments that Spencer was glad the kids were heavy sleepers. In a house full of people, they were all quite used to noise, though they had their quiet moments. They were all also used to being picked up and moved if they happened to fall asleep somewhere. Logan easily scooped up Dee and Mikayla with only minimal disturbance. Benji gathered up Tristan in his arms, settling the boy on his hip. Tristian didn’t stir, just buried his face in against Benji’s neck and stayed sleeping. But Summer and Maggie, they had to wake. They didn’t have much of a choice. The girls didn’t seem to mind, either. They woke pretty cheerfully, a trait they most definitely didn’t get from Spencer, and both of them lit up at the sight of Logan. “Grumpy!” Summer called happily, scrambling at her belt to unhook herself.

Tristan had been the one to start the nickname ‘Grumpy’ for Logan. All because he’d heard Remy teasingly call Logan a grumpy grandpa one night. From then on, Grumpy was what Tristan called him, and it had stuck around. Logan pretended to grumble over it sometimes, only managing to reinforce the title, but they all knew how much he enjoyed it. The gruff, grumpy feral doted on the kids.

“Hey, peanuts.” Logan said with a smile. He pulled Dee back a little on his hip to make room for first Summer and then Maggie to slip in and give him a quick hug.

Spencer grabbed the diaper bag and slung it over one shoulder before reaching in and detaching the car seat, turning it into a simple infant carrier. A quick click of the tongue brought Mycroft and Watson out of the van. Mycroft immediately went to Spencer's side, leaning against him in that way he had, while Watson came out and circled lazily around Benji’s feet. It was amusing sometimes to see just how much the grey cat would cling to Benji. Then again, it wasn’t anywhere near as much as the way Mycroft would cling to Spencer.

“Follow me.” Logan told them. “We can go in to my office. There’s space to talk and for the pups to play.”

“You have an office?” Benji teased him.

Logan mock-growled at the teen. “Watch it, bub. I’m a respectable teacher now.”

“ _Dieu_ help de children, den.”

Together, the group made their way inside, and a small bit of Spencer's tension eased. He wasn’t alone in this. For all his friends help before, they had their own lives, their own jobs, and they weren’t the sharp team of profilers they’d used to be. But Logan—he was family. He would care just as much about getting Remy back as Spencer did. He wouldn’t stop until the Cajun came home.


	4. Can't Hide Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer's powers are revealed in front of everyone, and they don't exactly react well

How had this happened? How had everything just gone to hell? This had been what had started out as a simple case for the BAU. They’d hunted their killer—a man who was hunting children—and they had found him after only three days. With the address to where the Unsub was holding the kids he had, the team had deployed with local cops and SWAT to this warehouse, prepared to apprehend him. Everything had been running smoothly. They’d had no way of knowing just how badly it would all go once they got there. Their profile was accurate, down to a letter. There was just one thing they had missed—one thing they’d had no way of being able to predict. Nothing in the man’s actions had suggested it.

Their Unsub was a mutant.

That little fact hadn’t come out until it was almost too late. Officers were spread out all around and the man was standing, three children in a cage behind him, and the Unsub was laughing. At a different time, they might have thought that it was just a sign of his insanity. The man wasn’t surrendering, wasn’t fighting back, nothing. He was just standing there and laughing and daring them to come for him. Then he’d lifted his hands up to the sky and everything around them had gone to hell. Blue fire shot from his hands, blasting through the roof, and the officers and SWAT members panicked.

Spencer saw the panic travel over the room. He saw the instant fear that the Unsub’s display invoked. But he also saw the one thing that the panic was blinding everyone to—guns were being readied and they were all preparing to fire and no one seemed to realize that shooting the Unsub would also fire on the children behind him. Their lives would be lost. And he would bet that was all part of the Unsub’s plan. It was one of those moments that defined a person. Spencer saw what was going to happen and he saw the only thing that he could do to save those children. He also knew what it would do to him to do it. Yet, there was never any doubt that the prize was worth the cost.

Without hesitation, Spencer lowered his gun and shot forward as fast as he could. He put all his strength into leaping forward right as the gunfire started and shouts echoed around him. His teammates screamed his name. None of it mattered. Spencer lifted his hands as he dove to the cage. One hand grabbed the bar closest to him to brace on while the other lifted and was held, palm out, toward the Unsub and the officers. A bright blue light flared at his hand before growing out. Even as it grew, Spencer felt it as something hit his side like a hammer. Pain filled him and he fought back the urge to cry out. He let go of the bars of the crate and raised his other hand as well, adding to the blue light until there was a perfect shield in front of him, protecting him and the children. The bullets hit the shield and dropped down to the ground.

The Unsub had jumped up when bullets started to fly, using the fire from his hands as a sort of propulsion, firing it down to the ground. At the sight of Spencer protecting the children, he lifted a hand and Spencer knew the fire was going to come his way. He knew it and fought to strengthen his shield, praying it would be strong enough to withstand that fire. He never had to find out. Just before the man blasted, a red laser slammed into his chest, knocking him into the wall. The fire from the man’s hands went flying crazy, blasting here and there as he hit.

Chaos was reigning inside the warehouse. Through his light, Spencer saw strange people rushing the room and he knew in a flash who it was. X-Men. X-Men had arrived. That was all the time he had to think on that, though. The local officers were still firing his direction and Spencer was fighting to hold his shield up strong and keep the children behind him safe. Couldn’t the idiots see that they could hurt the children? Of course not! All they were thinking of was taking out a mutant! The BAU team was shouting, trying to stop them, but a sort of mob mentality seemed to have taken them over.

A scream behind him drew Spencer's attention away from the guns in just enough time to see that a fireball flew his way. He moved his right hand, thrusting it to the side, stretching his blue light out wider. The fire hit and he grunted under the impact, the force of it pressing his back against the cage. He heard the children cry out and he threw more energy into the shield, praying it would hold as another fireball flew.

Someone came racing up to the edge of Spencer's shield and he was ready to shove them back when he saw that it was one of the X-Men, Wolverine. Spencer waited until he was right by the shields before dropping that edge and allowing the man to the cage. “Get them out!” He shouted to him.

Wolverine wasted no time in slicing the lock off the cage and pulling the kids out from inside. Spencer held his shields tight as Wolverine tore out of the cage and raced with the children off to the sidelines where they’d be safe. Freed from protection detail, Spencer turned toward the Unsub. He’d already revealed himself; what more damage could it cause to help stop the man? But before he even fully turned, he saw he was too late. One of the officers’ bullets finally found a home, burying in the Unsub’s chest and sending him flying to the ground. That should have been the end of it.

It wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.

Spencer once more found himself in the position of seeing a coming horror and knowing that he had to stop it. _Son of a bitch_. The uncharacteristic curse floated through his mind. _If I believed in such things, I’d think someone was working against me today._ The mental whining didn’t stop him from doing what needed to be done. Even as he complained inside his head, he shot forward again, one hand wrapping around his waist to hold his side where he knew he was still bleeding, his other hand taking the shield and extending it out. Purposely he threw himself between the humans and the X-Men, planting his feet on the ground and shoving as much energy as he could into making a solid blue wall in front of his hand, protecting them from the bullets that fired. “That is _enough_!” he shouted out as loudly as he could. “Everyone, enough! Stop!”

“Freeze!” The voice of Aaron Hotchner echoed over to him, sharp with command. “Everyone freeze! Do not fire!”

There were more shouts and then silence before Spencer heard Derek call out “It’s safe, Reid!” No matter what, he knew he could trust Derek. The man wouldn’t knowingly put anyone in danger. So Spencer pulled in his power, trusting that a man he’d called friend for years now wouldn’t set him up. Unfortunately, letting go of that power took away some of his personal energy and he couldn’t stop the way his legs seemed to melt underneath him, dropping him to his knees. When hands touched him, he didn’t fight at first, thinking it was simply Derek. His friend had been right in front of him, just on the other side of his shielding. But the hands didn’t feel right and Spencer opened his eyes to find someone he didn’t know kneeling beside him, hands trying to brace his shoulders. When he looked up, his heart gave a painful throb to see that not a single member of his team had moved toward him. They had protected him, but they weren’t moving toward him now. If anything, they seemed to be keeping a safe distance.

Spencer fought to push his heartache down. Right then and there he promised himself they would never know just how badly this hurt him. He used the hands that were on him—he thought the person was Colossus, though the man was in his human form so he wasn’t sure—to help bring him to his feet once more. One of his hands stayed curled over his wound, trying to keep it as hidden as possible. Letting his mask slip into place, Spencer looked at each member of his team, at people he had counted as more than friends. They had been his family. Now…now they looked at him like he was a stranger. “Get the kids to the hospital.” He told them. Thankfully, nothing leaked into his voice. His words were calm and flat without a hint of any of his inner turmoil. “They need the medical attention. I’m going to go gather my things from the hotel.”

When they said nothing to him, his heart broke a little more. He pulled away from the person still holding on to him and he made his way toward the side door of the warehouse. Someone called after him—he had no idea who it was and he didn’t recognize the voice at all—but he kept walking. That was all he could do right now; just keep walking. It took a lot of his concentration just to manage that. Putting up such strong, wide shields while injured had taken a goodly amount of his inner energy and he felt like a car that was running close to ‘E’.

He was only feet out the door and into the night when someone called out a deep “Hey, bub!” behind him. His reaction was purely instinctual. Without giving any thought to it, Spencer did the one thing that had saved his life countless times before. He ran. Curses filled the air behind him before there were the sounds of pursing footsteps. More than one set, it seemed. _Shit_! Absently Spencer thought to himself that he was cursing more in his mind tonight than he usually did. Then he threw all of his attention into running and not passing out. The wound in his side throbbed each time his foot impacted with the ground and the world seemed to be trying to spin around him, making his steps a little more faltering. Still, he had quite a bit of practice at running and his long legs ate up the pavement, carrying him further and further away from his pursuers.

One thing he’d learned as a child was that he couldn’t run indefinitely. Usually the person chasing him was stronger, older, more physically fit. All he had on his side were long legs, speed, and a quick mind. The only way to survive was to use those to find a place to hide until his pursuers were gone. That was what he did now. His eyes scanned around him and he tried to find the best possible place to hide. He didn’t give himself time to think about _who_ was chasing him, only about getting the hell away from them. That in mind, he turned to the right, jumping over a crate there and darting into the door of yet another warehouse.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just one person chasing him, but a group. When Spencer was halfway across the warehouse, the door in front of him opened and two people darted in. Just barely did he manage to skid to a stop, turning on his heel to take off the other way. Then that door opened and people spilled in there as well. Son of a bitch! Spencer didn’t let himself overthink this. Instinct took over and had him moving sideways, allowing him to watch both groups at once. His one hand held tighter to his waist, trying to stem the bleeding still while his other hand lifted and a ball of blue energy built there. He made his voice as firm as he could make it, pulling up the mask he’d perfected over the years. “I have no quarrel with you. Just step away and let me go and this can all be over.”

One of the people stepped forward and Spencer got his first real look at who was after him. The visor the man wore made that clear enough; that was Cyclops. One of the X-men. Spencer tried to look at the others, to see if they too were X-Men, but blood loss and using his energy were combining together and his vision was slightly blurred. Only sheer will was keeping him on his feet right now.

Cyclops held his hands out on either side of him while he took a few steps toward Spencer. “We have no quarrel with you either. We simply want to help you.”

“I don’t need help.” Spencer insisted. _Liar_ his mind taunted him.

Someone snorted and moved up by Cyclops. After a second of blinking, Spencer realized who it was. Wolverine. “Yer bleeding, bub. I can smell it. Why don’t ya just suck in some pride and let us help ya?”

 _Because all help comes with a price and I can’t afford to pay anything to anyone else. I’ve got nothing left to pay with._ “Because helping me isn’t the only reason you came. It’s obvious I’m a mutant just as the vest I’m wearing clearly labels me FBI. _That_ is what sent you after me.” He knew he was being irrational. He knew that he wasn’t thinking clearly. If he’d been in a clear mind, he would’ve taken their help, knowing that he needed it. He definitely wouldn’t have pushed at them like this. But he wasn’t thinking clearly. He was hurting, inside and out, and the instinct to defend had been triggered and all he could think of was getting out of here and finding somewhere to take care of himself. Being weak around others was not allowed. If you were weak around others, that was when they could hurt you the most. He wouldn’t hand that power over to anyone. If he was weak now, there was no telling what they would do. The government had hurt them quite a bit; would they hesitate to take him and keep him as a prisoner? Even though he was a mutant, he was an FBI agent. _Well, you were._ “Well, you can see, I’m useless to you, whatever it is you want me for. You saw my team. I may’ve been FBI, but I definitely am not any longer. You gain nothing by taking me, so let me be.”

“We’re not seeking to gain anything here.” Cyclops kept his voice low and soothing. “We saw the way they were. We know you’re alone and we know you’re hurt. Let us help you, please. Let us get you medical attention at least.”

“Why?” _Nothing comes for free_.

Cyclops took another cautious step forward. “Because you’re hurt and I can’t walk away from someone I can help. Because we know what it’s like to be shunned for being a mutant. Because you were hurt defending those children. Because I have a feeling you sacrificed your life, your secret, just to keep those kids safe. Because you need someone right now and who else are you going to trust but people who are like you?”

Looking at him, Spencer knew he had no real choice. Scott was right; he did need someone right now and he did need medical attention. Even as the cynical part of him screamed to trust no one, the rest of him knew he had to. Slowly he drew his energy back into himself until it no longer floated over his hand. The loss of that energy coursing in him had him stumbling slightly. Wolverine moved the fastest, darting out and catching him as he started to stumble. The world spun slightly and Spencer felt the adrenaline crash starting to hit, combining with the blood loss so that the world seemed to fade in and out. The last thing he heard before he gave in to the blackness was a gruff voice saying “I got ya, kid.”


	5. The Undercover Job

“You have the right to say no, Reid. No one can force you to do this and it would be understood if you’re not comfortable with this.”

Aaron’s words were steady and solid and his expression more serious than Spencer could ever remember seeing it when directed towards him. When his boss had called him into his office, Spencer hadn’t known what to expect, but he was beginning to realize that whatever it was, it was very serious. Folding his hands in his lap, he tipped his head slightly to watch his boss’s face. “I can’t make that decision until I know what’s being asked of me, Sir.”

That earned him a brief nod from Aaron. He shuffled through some papers on his desk before picking up a folder and holding it out toward Spencer. “Have you heard the name Grayson Waters?”

It took a second of mental sifting for Spencer to place where he’d heard the name before. Opening the folder and looking at the first page, which carried a photo, helped him place it. “He’s a smuggler. He started out as a low level drug smuggler before he managed to destroy some of his competition. In the span of a week, he became the main name in the business, though he managed to do so without having anything that could actually tie him directly to the work. Once he established his drug smuggling reputation, he moved on to gunrunning. Yet still he manages to keep himself clean, despite how big his name has become in the business. The Bureau’s been trying to catch him for years.”

“They may have discovered a way.” Aaron leaned back in his chair and folded his hands, watching as Spencer read through the file he held which was a full packet of information on Grayson Waters. “The Bureau’s been trying to think of a way to get close to him for months now. They’ve put a lot of hours and manpower into trying to find out the man’s schedule, his likes and dislikes, everything that would give them a generically built profile. Then they took that profile and had Dave and I consult on it. It’s accurate, as far as we can tell. Using that information, they’ve tried to get people close to him, only to have it fail time and time again. He either ignores their plant completely, not taking the bait, or he ferrets out the truth almost instantly. To be honest, no one’s sure if he simply can read people well, if he’s being informed, or if there’s a chance he’s a mutant with some power that lets him know.”

“That’s a possibility.” Shifting to the last page, Spencer let his eyes drift over it, his words spoken almost absently. “He could be a telepath, or someone close to him could be. It’s becoming increasingly popular for those in organized crime to hire mutants for their close staff because it allows them an extra level of control. It’s almost a given that he has at least one mutant on his staff. Most assuredly they’ll be in a position close to him, too.”

“That is something we’re considering. However, no one can get close enough to him to figure it out. So they came to the BAU, hoping that maybe a profiler would be able to help them get what they’ve failed at so far. They’ve met with the Unit Chiefs of the teams here and we’ve helped them build a slightly more accurate profile as well as offered suggestions as to who from our teams might be a good choice to try and get undercover. You ranked in the top five for that choice, Reid. You’re actually our second choice.”

Now that was enough to have Spencer's eyes snapping up from the file to lock on his boss. That hadn’t been at all what he’d been expecting the man to say. He’d been sure they wanted assistance with their profile, or with gathering information or providing information. But they wanted him, undercover? He couldn’t believe it. “Me, Sir?”

“You’re an exceptional profiler, Reid, with benefits for field work like this that many others don’t have. Not only do you have the capability to memorize any information you read so well that we know we can guarantee the information you give us is accurate, but you also have the benefit of being one of our best and most adaptable profilers.”

“There are much better profilers than myself, Hotch. Those that have done undercover work, or specialize in crimes such as this. There are some that are experts in trafficking.”

“True. But you don’t give yourself enough credit, Reid. There’s a reason I’ve jokingly introduced you as our expert in everything. You carry a wealth of knowledge in your head that could come in handy. And, I’m going to be brutally honest here. You have a benefit most of the others here do not—your appearance. I know it’s been a problem for you here, that people look at you and they don’t see an FBI agent. With the right clothes, you could easily look like a college student.” Before Spencer could make any protest, Aaron held up his hand. “I don’t want you to agree or disagree quite yet. You have the right to know what it is you’re doing, first. Will you hear me out?”

After only a second’s hesitation, Spencer nodded. Aaron was right. He had to know what they would be asking of him before he agreed or disagreed with this whole thing.

Aaron nodded back and then drew himself up slightly, preparing for what he was about to say. “I’m going to be blunt with all of this, Reid. It’s the only way to do it. What the Bureau wants is to get someone close to Waters. Close enough to be able to help gather information, to bring us things that might help us to take him down. To do that, the person is going to need to be trusted. Now, putting someone on his staff has so far failed, because he doesn’t even seem to trust his staff with the big things. Anything we’ve gained from staff members would only put Waters away for a short time. They want to bring him down for everything, not just for the small stuff. To do that, we need to get someone in close, someone that he trusts.”

One small fact from the folder he’d just looked at came to the front of Spencer's mind. Suddenly a few things became very, very clear and Spencer's whole body went still as he processed that information. “You want to provide him with a significant other.” He said the words slowly, his mind racing ahead with the possibilities of what this meant. “His file says he’s single; a homosexual.”

“With a preference for men in their early twenties that fit a physical type in which you match almost perfectly.” Aaron said carefully.

“You want me to date him.” Even saying the words sounded ludicrous. Spencer couldn’t believe this. Were they really asking him to do this? “You want to make me into someone else and set me up to be picked up by him and have me use what we know and my own profiling skills to make myself his significant other so I can then turn around and hand him over to all of you.”

“I know how distasteful it sounds. The Bureau wouldn’t ask if they didn’t believe this was the only way, Reid. And you and I know, even if the rest of the Bureau doesn’t, that you have a unique _skill_ that will help you read the man and will help you to earn his trust.”

The subtle reference to his empathy had Spencer wanting to wince. Had Aaron thought to the flip side of that? Sure, it would help him out by allowing him to read the man’s emotions, allowing him to more than likely gain his trust just a little easier. However, it could backfire and he could find himself caring just a little too much about the other man. In the wrong situation, his empathy could be used as a weapon against him. Too many strong negative emotions at once could take him down or out completely.

With Spencer's continued silence, Aaron moved forward, giving him the rest of the information. He knew his young agent well enough to know that Spencer would need all facts before he’d be able to make any kind of decision. “Another distinction you have above others is your mind, Reid, and not in the usual sense. You’ve told us before that you know a very powerful telepath or two and that they cannot get past your mental shielding to read your mind. Now, to be able to do this, the Bureau has actually found someone who is a semi-strong telepath to test the agent we’ll be sending out and make sure that their mind can’t be read and to help teach stronger mental shields if needed. We’re hoping that’ll allow us to be prepared in case our suspicions are right and he does have a telepath of his own on staff. With your already built shields, that puts you a step ahead of anyone else we might select.”

“That makes sense.” On that point Spencer couldn’t argue. It was logical and it was true. He dismissed that part of things, not concerned with it, and moved to the part that _did_ concern him. “How close exactly am I expected to get to him? How deep into this role am I expected to go, Hotch?”

“The Bureau answer to that is to tell you that you’re expected to go as far as comfortable and as you deem necessary, Reid. Whether or not I agree with that is irrelevant. My opinion there has been steadfastly overruled.”

He added that bit of information to the rest of it. A picture was growing in his mind, almost there but not quite complete. He needed a bit more information to be able to fully understand everything. “And what is the cover role I’d be supplied? If I said yes to this, what would happen? Who would I become?”

Nothing showed on Aaron’s face as he picked up another folder and handed it over. Again, he explained things even as Spencer read through what was there. “We have a few possibilities, depending on what you’re comfortable and capable with. It’s been proven that Waters has a soft spot for young, southern men. But we’re open to any of the possibilities in there. It has to be one you’d be comfortable with. One that you can put on and feel realistic inside of, or it won’t work.”

“This one here, this Levi Braden Calhoun, he seems to fit Grayson’s preferences.” Spencer pointed out. He ran his finger down the page for ‘Levi’. “A twenty two year old college student from Lexington, Kentucky. Kicked out of his home by a family with the strong religious values of the south, ostracized for his homosexuality. Grayson would most likely relate to that in one form or another and it would also provide him an opening he’d enjoy, allowing him to step in and be a confidant as well as a sort of protector. Someone who can make it better.”

“That cover requires an accent and would take a short time for you to be taught to change your speech to suit at least some of that accent.”

“Accents aren’t that difficult to master, sir. All it takes is the right change to certain words.”

Aaron couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise at Spencer's words. The voice that had come out of the young man across from him hadn’t been his usual speech, but a slow southern drawl that he would’ve sworn was natural if he didn’t know the man. “I’m impressed, Reid.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked up once more. When he spoke, his voice was back to normal. “I used to be fascinated by the sound of accents. A friend of mine is a master at switching his accent to any sound he wants and he’s taught me a few of them, just for amusements sake. I’ve also managed an Irish accent, a British, and a mostly passable Cajun accent—well, at least enough of one that he doesn’t wince at me when I try anymore. A Kentucky drawl won’t be difficult.”

It was with that last part of the statement that both men knew—Spencer was going to take the job. His comments didn’t carry the ‘what if’ sound to them anymore, but spoke in a way that clearly said he was going to be doing this. Aaron acknowledged that with a small nod of his head. “Are you sure you can maintain an accent like that full time? Because one slip could mess up your entire cover.”

“I’m sure. The trick is to force yourself to think that way as well as speak it. As soon as you start thinking with that sound, it makes it much easier for it to come out of your mouth that way.” He looked back down at the papers he held and once more read through the cover story, just to make sure he had all the information. “This one is the one I could put on the easiest, I believe. Most of the history given here is dealing with things I understand or can easily start to understand. The story is basic enough to be easily adaptable. Twenty two years old, attending the University of California in San Diego. Major undecided right now with an interest in mechanical engineering. How long is it going to take to get this set up?”

“They’re ready to push this as soon as you’d be ready, Reid. At your word, we’ll head straight down and meet with the team and discuss particulars. Their hopes are to have an agent established in an apartment by the end of the week and first contact made within the next two weeks.”

It wasn’t surprising. From the sounds of this, this team had been working on this for quite a while and they’d already done a lot of startup work on this new part. They just needed the person to play the role, now. Spencer took a moment to close his eyes and review everything he’d just read, everything he’d heard, and to honestly think about it. Yet he knew what he was going to do. Thinking it through this way was just a double checking process. A formality, in his mind. He opened his eyes once more and looked straight at his boss, his friend, and he nodded at him. “I’ll do it. Let’s get started.”


	6. Descent Into Madness

When you’ve spent most of your life hiding secrets that could get you in trouble, secrets that could get you _killed_ , the idea of revealing them even to someone that you trust is utterly terrifying. For years now Spencer Reid had lived with the fear of the teammates he loved like a family finding out that he was a mutant. An _empath_. He hadn’t ever wanted to tell them. Jason had known, of course. He’d known that back when Spencer was just a young college student in awe of the famous FBI profiler. But Spencer had never told anyone else once he’d been hired. Some if it was to protect them, so if the truth ever came out they wouldn’t be in trouble for knowing and not telling. Most of it… most of it was to protect _him_.

No one on the team was anti-mutant. Spencer didn’t believe that they’d hate him simply because he was a mutant. No, they were better than that. All of them were. What worried him was what they would do if they found out just what his powers were.

Empaths were rare. Some powers, Spencer knew, were based in empathy. Some had a touch of it somehow. Clairvoyants had a sort of empathy to them. As did those with psychometry—those who could touch an object and gain impressions, emotions, or memories. Those were all things that used empathy to work, in a sense, and they were things that could almost be learned if an empath was advanced enough. But a real, true empath? Spencer could only ever remember hearing about one and that had been someone who had had the ability but who had died. Either empaths were honestly rare, or those that possessed the ability knew better than to talk about it. Spencer certainly did.

The idea of someone who could read, project, and manipulate emotions was terrifying to people. It was hard enough for the world to deal with telepaths, and they were a dime-a-dozen. There were so many worries and fears about telepaths listening to private thoughts or projecting into their heads and making them do something they didn’t want to do. But the general public also seemed to hold the belief that they’d be able to feel them in there, or that some part of them would recognize that this wasn’t something they really wanted to do. Empaths, though… an empath could theoretically make someone do something while all the while believing it was something they actually wanted to do. They could make them do something and _enjoy_ it.

Spencer had never wanted to look at his friends and see them look back at him with fear or worry on their faces. He’d never wanted them to have to question if they really cared about Spencer or if he’d manipulated them into liking him. It was hard enough some days to deal with his own fears that he might accidentally be projecting and making them like him more than they already did. He didn’t want to have them look at him and be afraid of the same thing. So, he had never told them.

Last night, that choice had been taken squarely out of his hands. All because of one terrified kid out on the streets. One scared kid who hadn’t stopped to think before he spoke and had inadvertently blurted out Spencer's biggest secret right in front of his unit chief.

Spencer and Aaron had been talking to a few kids on the street during their last case, trying to tie up a few more loose ends that later on proved unnecessary when their Unsub went down in a suicide-by-cop. But the two profilers had been speaking with some kids on the street and one of them had panicked at the sight of them, tried to run away, and Aaron had caught him. They’d been sure that the kid knew something and that was why he was running. They hadn’t realized that he was running because he was a mutant and was terrified of law enforcement. Not until Spencer had caught up with them and he’d stupidly tried to project a sense of calm in the hopes of making them all a bit more relaxed, just like he’d done a million times before. The kid’s eyes had gone wide and he’d looked right at Spencer, blurting out the words that would change Spencer's life. “Holy shit, you’re a _mutant_?”

“I, what?” Spencer had spluttered. He’d felt Aaron staring at him and knew his boss was thinking, processing, but Spencer hadn’t looked at him. All he had been able to do was try and deny it and hope to salvage the situation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I _felt_ it, dude. You’re a mutant. An empath!”

To Spencer's surprise, Aaron hadn’t pressed the issue. He’d steered conversation right back to where it needed to be. But for the rest of the day Spencer had felt the man’s eyes on him and he’d known that he was being watched. Even on the jet home he felt the man’s stare. Aaron hadn’t approached him, though. He hadn’t said anything else about it.

The more that Spencer thought about it, the more worried he became. Because Aaron hadn’t seemed angry, but… he hadn’t seemed surprised, either.  It was like Spencer had almost confirmed something for him. Had he suspected before this? Had he always known and was just waiting for Spencer to say something?

Even more questions cropped up the longer Spencer had to think. It’d been a little over a day and Spencer had had plenty of time to come up with a ton of worries. What was Aaron going to do? Would he tell the Bureau? Would he tell the team? How would they react? What was going to happen to him? Was he going to lose his job? Would he be arrested for not disclosing his status upon being hired?

Round and round and round these thoughts went until Spencer thought he was going to be sick from it.

It wasn’t until the next night after that reveal as Spencer was starting to try and think of what to make for dinner that something finally happened. It wasn’t much—just a text—but it was enough. Enough to have Spencer grabbing his coat and keys and hurrying from his apartment.

_Aaron: Come to my place. We need to talk_

Those words put a hard knot of worry into Spencer's gut. At the same time, he straightened up his spine. It was time to face the music, no matter what happened. Anything had to be better than living in this limbo waiting and worrying about what was going to happen.

* * *

Spencer couldn’t remember the last time that he’d been so nervous. Standing in front of Aaron’s house, it took a lot of effort for him to actually knock on the door. He had no idea what was going to be waiting inside for him. Or who, even. He had his empathy locked down as tight as he could get it. The last thing he wanted was to go in there and feel any negative emotions. That might break him more than anything else. He didn’t want to feel what Aaron or anyone else he had with him were going to be feeling. He also didn’t want them to be able to accuse him of manipulating them in the conversation.

Would the team be here? Had Aaron told them? Those thoughts plagued him as he waited there on the front step. When the door finally opened, Spencer felt frazzled inside, his nerves completely on edge. But it was only Aaron who greeted him at the door.

However, it wasn’t only Aaron that he found inside.

There was barely a chance for Spencer to do more than step into the living room before he noticed the presence of others in there. Only, it wasn’t the people that he’d expected. It wasn’t the rest of their team that stood there waiting for him. The men that were waiting in Aaron’s living room were strangers. People that Spencer had never before seen. But even without lowering his shields they gave him a chill that almost immediately had him wanting to leave the room. There was an aura of trouble about them. Something that told Spencer that they weren’t here for good things.

He turned to look at his Unit Chief, his friend, and what he saw there had his insides aching. “Hotch.” Spencer's voice was a low croak, heavy with emotion. “What have you done?”

Aaron took a small step back from him. There was grief in his eyes and a kind of pain that Spencer hadn’t expected to see there. Whatever this was, it pained him greatly. “I’m sorry, Reid. I really am. But they… they just want to help you.”

“Help me?”

One of the men pushed forward from the others. His bearing made it easy to read that he was the leader of this group. There was just an air around him that spoke of someone who was used to giving commands and having them obeyed. He stood tall and straight, shoulders back and hands clasped behind him, his sharp grey eyes focused right on Spencer, framed by thick brows that gave him a predatory look. His salt and pepper hair was kept short in a cut that screamed military just as much as his body language did. “Your friend is right, Dr. Reid. We only want to help you. Just as we’ve helped countless empaths out there.”

That stunned Spencer almost as much as the rest. The idea that there were more empaths out there. His eyes went wide briefly before the rest of it sank in and he snapped his gaze back to Aaron. Hurt washed through him. “You called someone about me? You turned me in?”

“They came to me and asked about you. I didn’t believe it at first, not until this case.” Aaron said. He was pleading with Spencer in an open way that the young genius had never seen on his stoic friend before. It was hard to witness. Harder to hear it in his voice. “I wouldn’t turn you in to be hurt, Reid, you know that. They aren’t going to hurt you—they want to help. They told me the kinds of things that can happen to empaths without help. I know you’re angry and hurt, Reid, but these people, they can help you.”

“I don’t _need_ help.” Spencer snapped. The sick feeling inside grew stronger and stronger. This was bad. This was so bad. There was no doubt in his mind that the people here were much more dangerous than Aaron realized. Taking a small step back, Spencer watched with horror as Aaron moved as well, blocking his exit. The others were moving but Spencer only had eyes for his friend. “Hotch, don’t do this.” He whispered.

Aaron looked like he’d been punched. His face was a mask of pain that couldn’t be hidden behind any of his usual masks. “I’m sorry.”

There was no more time to think. The men were on him in a flash and Spencer lashed out in the only ways he could; with body and with his empathy he struck out at them in the hopes of breaking them off long enough to get free. It didn’t work. They were bigger than him, stronger, and in opening himself up to attack them, he also opened himself up to their emotions .They seemed prepared for that. Never before had Spencer ever felt someone actually use their emotions to strike out at him. A pained cry slipped past his lips and his legs gave way underneath him until he was kneeling on the ground, hands cradling his head. It felt like they were focusing their rage right at him and it was like daggers to his brain.

Hands were on him, making the emotions stronger, and then something else was there, a needle against his neck. He heard shouting behind him and another voice, Aaron’s voice, calling out to him. The last thing he heard before he passed out was Aaron calling out “Be careful with him. Don’t hurt him!”

* * *

When Spencer came to, he wasn’t in Aaron’s house any longer. There was a grogginess to his head that spoke of drugs. He had the faint memory of it as well. Going to Aaron’s house, the people there, the fight to get free, and the needle in his neck. All of that played through his mind as the haze started to clear and he slowly woke up.

As he woke up, he became aware of other things. The hardness underneath his back. The cold around his ankles and wrists. _I’m cuffed. Held down and cuffed to a bed._ Terror shot through him. Oh, God, what was going on? This… it was every mutants worst fear. Scientists were the bogeymen of the mutant world. Something that terrified them all. Be careful, or scientists will get you. They’ll take you away and do their experiments on you. It’d been done so many times, they all had real reason to fear. _And it’s happening to me. Oh, God, it’s happening to me._

He didn’t really get long to lie there and panic on his own. No sooner had he started to piece things together than whoever had him realized he was awake. “Good afternoon, Dr. Reid.” A calm voice greeted him.

Spencer snapped his eyes open and almost immediately regretted it. The lights above him blinded him so badly he couldn’t see a thing. He had to quickly close his eyes against the pain of it. However, even if he couldn’t see, he could still talk. “What’s going on?” he demanded in a voice that cracked and broke, his throat too dry to speak normally.

A pinprick in his arm had him jerking his eyes open once more and trying to pull away. Unfortunately, that was when he became aware of the other straps holding him in place. Not just on his ankles and wrists but on the rest of him as well. Over his arms and chest, his hips, even his legs. He was pinned down perfectly in place, unable to move, unable to get away.

His vision had cleared enough that he was finally able to see around him. What he found didn’t help his panic any. He was in a lab. A _lab_. The table had sort of given that away but he’d still hoped. Foolishly, it seemed. He was captured and held in a lab. All because some people had gone to a friend and lied about _helping_ him. Spencer rolled his head a little to look at the person who was sliding a needle out of his arm. _What did they give me?_ “Who are you?” He asked instead. “What are you doing to me?”

“Calm, Dr. Reid. I’m Dr. Walt.” The man said. He was older, with graying hair and a face that looked as if it had never smiled, never laughed. “I needed to give you another dose. I believe you are the strongest empath we’ve ever had here. We weren’t quite prepared for how quickly you’d burn through things. I’ve adjusted the dose, though, so we should be fine now.”

The way Walt spoke was as if Spencer wasn’t even there. As if he were simply speaking to himself.

Walt turned away for a moment before he turned back around. The sight of the new needle in his hand had Spencer going tense. “What is that? _What are you doing_?” Panic crept into his voice. This man wasn’t answering any of his questions so far except for his name. What was this? What was he planning? As the needle got closer, Spencer began to struggle even though he knew it was fruitless. His empathy felt like it was just out of reach. Like he could feel what Walt was feeling—a cold, detached sort of interest many scientists had when viewing experiments—but he couldn’t project anything, and he couldn’t move his shields. What was going on here? “What are you doing? Get away from me with that! Let go of me!”

There was nothing that Spencer could do to stop it as Walt came up to him and slipped the needle into the crook of his arm. He pressed the plunger and the world suddenly changed, shifting into a strange haze as a heavy heat filled Spencer’s veins. Against his will Spencer’s body slowed its struggles and his eyes began to feel heavy. He only distantly felt the needle being removed.

“Rest, Dr. Reid.” Walt’s voice said. “Rest. We’ve got a long way to go.”

* * *

Things blurred for a while, drifting in and out like some strange dream. How long he was there, he had no idea. It could’ve been minutes, or days. Someone came and went around him, checking him, testing him, but it was like he was underwater. Everything had this distant, muffled feel to it and his body felt both held down and yet weightless all at the same time. It was almost pleasant.

Eventually, though, it started to fade, and little by little Spencer made his way back towards reality. When he blinked his eyes open, he found Dr. Walt standing at his bedside messing with some items on a tray. Vaguely, Spencer registered that this should be a disturbing thing, but it seemed almost distant from him, detached.

Spencer tried to hold on to that detached feeling. He tried so very hard to keep in control of himself. He swore that he wouldn’t beg, he wouldn’t plead. Maybe the tears would come, but he was going to do his damndest not to scream. He would be strong. That was what he told himself, over and over, like a mantra in his mind. And he tried to stick to it. He held on to it through the blood tests, the in depth physical exam. He held on to it as he was stretched out naked on that cold table, restrained, and examined on every inch of his exposed skin. He even held on through the first injection, though it sent a tremor down him that he couldn’t quite control.

Whatever it was they’d put in him before to sedate him was still present enough in Spencer's system that it was hard to gather his thoughts. He knew he should be protesting this all more than he was. He should be plotting and planning and finding a way to talk his way out of this. That was his job. He was a profiler! But he couldn’t seem to gather himself enough to manage to do it. His usually high powered brain was running slower than ever and it was a terrifying feeling. Yet…he remembered a plan, a mantra he’d been repeating before. What was it? _Don’t…what? Don’t…beg. Don’t beg, don’t…plead…don’t scream. Don’t beg, don’t plead, don’t scream._ That was right. That was it! _Don’t beg, don’t plead, don’t scream. It won’t matter. You’re outnumbered, out gunned. Don’t beg, don’t plead, don’t scream._

He tried to hold on to that, he really did. Yet his body held slightly different ideas. Weakly he thrashed in his bonds, an almost silent protest to what was going on. The doctor just patted his arm and shushed him. “Just a moment, Dr. Reid. Just a moment. I think I have it this time.” Walt held up a needle and vial, drawing a clear liquid up into the syringe. Seeing it had Spencer thrashing even more. He had no idea what was in that needle but he knew he didn’t want it in him. _Not again._ Almost silently he heard a faint whisper of Tobias in his mind _“It helps”_. No!

The doctor ignored Spencer's protests and started to clean a spot in the crook of his arm. “Just a quick prick, that’s all. Then we shall see. I have faith it’ll work this time. You are going to help me uncover my greatest discovery, Doctor. You should be proud!” Walt praised. Despite Spencer's best efforts, which really weren’t that great at all, the needle still punctured his skin. He felt the quick prick and could only watch as his body was injected with whatever was in that vial. Then the needle was gone and a cotton ball was being held there. “Calm yourself, Dr. Reid. You’ll need your strength soon enough.”

Was there anything else he could do? The drugs already in his system pulled Spencer back down into the dark. There he drifted in and out, his mind instinctively trying to push past the heavy cloud. A slight tingling was building in his limbs, just faintly tickling at his nerves, like the tingle that spreads after a limb has fallen asleep and is starting to wake. It was enough to annoy him and keep him from completely resting. Then the tingling grew. No longer just an annoyance; it was starting to hurt. He shifted slightly to try to chase it away and found that, instead, it was _spreading_. A pained sound slipped past his lips. His whole body was tingling now. Aching. He tried to say something, to who he didn’t know. But the tingling grew more intense and the only sound that came past his lips was a low groan.

Suddenly the tingling seemed to explode inside of him. Spencer's eyes snapped open and his body bowed, head thrown back as the pain ripped its way across every inch of his body. Every nerve, every cell, felt like it was being electrocuted. And with that, all of Spencer's best intentions went right out the window. The first of many screams ripped its way violently past his lips.

* * *

Pain. There was so much pain. It had filled every inch of Spencer's body in ways he hadn’t even known were possible. He’d felt as if he were frying from the inside out. As if there were an electric current that was racing over every cell in his body. It had burned him until he was sure that there would be nothing left. Until finally, finally, there had been darkness and blessed peace. When the dark had come, Spencer had embraced it, unafraid of what lay on the other side. He had been so sure he would never wake again. So when he woke once more, it was a shock to his system. A loud gasp tore up his throat and his body jerked, making the pain flare even more.

All around him he could hear voices, broken and choppy, and they were nothing compared to the _pain_. He barely had enough strength to try and decipher the words through the acid he swore was swimming in his veins.

“…not what we thought…different genetic makeup responds….”

“He’s already….never seen…”

“…think it makes a difference?”

“….brain activity all over the place…”

The pain of it grew too much and Spencer willingly sank back down into the darkness. He closed his eyes and willed himself far, far away from here.


End file.
